


Parallels

by Movie_Riggs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Movie_Riggs/pseuds/Movie_Riggs
Summary: Michelle Jones thinks about Peter Parker a lot...more than she'd care to admit, actually. She's there to think about him during one of the biggest downs of his life. And just when his life might be coming to an end, Peter thinks about Michelle.





	Parallels

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place pre-Homecoming and during Infinity War.

**The Time Ben Died**

Michelle Jones thought about Peter Parker more often than she would readily admit. She hated the term "crush," even though that was exactly what she had. Ever since the start of freshman year, to be exact. Peter with his skinny bones, curly mop of hair, and glasses that just wouldn't stay perched on the bridge of his nose the way they were supposed to. Peter who, along with the rest of the school, probably assumed Michelle was asexual at this point. Even if she wasn't, she was much too antisocial to be considered as a potential romantic interest to literally anybody. 

She had not always been this way. There were times when a young, bright-eyed Michelle would sit and watch Disney princess movies with other girls from her elementary class and giggle over boys. Somewhere down the line, though, Michelle had realized what a bunch of pre-madonnas they all were and grown disinterested. Instead, she developed her smarts by burying her nose in every book she could find while simultaneously learning all about the social and political issues plaguing her nation through the conversations of her parents. Throughout junior high, her classmates began to understand that she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, and eventually they all granted her wish. 

Thus, when Michelle said his name aloud, it sounded weird not only to everyone standing nearby but also to her. It was more words than she had spoken to someone directly--by her own choice--in quite some time. 

"Peter."

Not "Parker," or "loser," as she would come to call him throughout the rest of their high school career. Just "Peter."

Peter looked up from where he had been staring absentmindedly at the filthy hall floor. His hair was more unkempt than usual, and behind his glasses his eyes were red. Granted, he had not cried as much as his Aunt May or even his best friend Ned Leeds, who was just as close with the deceased as Peter himself had been. But he _had_ been crying nonetheless, and the absolute hopelessness that adorned his face made Michelle want to cry, too. 

For a moment, this poor boy--who had already lost his parents years ago--was no longer her crush. He was just someone she had seen every day for the majority of her life; someone who she cared about and who needed to know that she did. Thus she ignored the quickening of her own heartbeat as she took one step forward, bent slightly down, and wrapped her arms about Peter gently. His hands were full of textbooks; he could barely embrace her back, but she didn't care. As his body began to quiver with the beginnings of yet another sob, Michelle practically cradled his head and whispered, "I'm so sorry," over and over. She made eye contact with Flash Thompson as he passed by. Any other day, the disgustingly rich punk would have made a loudmouth remark about the two hugging it out in the hall. Not today. Flash's expression was uncharacteristically solemn. He knew what had happened, the same as everyone else.

That night, Michelle lay on her side in her bed. She hated sleeping on her side, but tonight there was an aching in her heart that could only begin to be satisfied if she was reaching outward for someone who was not laying next to her. She silently willed Peter, sleeping in his own bed, to feel her reaching for him; to feel any bit of comfort.

 

 

**The Time Peter Died**

Peter Parker was brutally beaten. This was not something he was a stranger to. He had taken beatings before; from Captain America and the Vulture, no less. Today was different, though, because today he was not just beaten physically. He reached inside himself for anything that would bring him back into reality. That last bit of energy he needed was just around the corner. His spirit would not be broken. He was Spider-Man.

He was tired. He was so tired. Any place on his body where there wasn't pain was simply numb with exhaustion. All he could manage was an apology.

"Tony, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

What more could he do?

_With great power comes great responsibility._ He had taken that responsibility wholeheartedly, but what happened when his power wasn't great enough? 

_If you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it._ He had the suit. In fact, it was a new suit. But even the advanced technology was nothing to the Titan they were facing.

He might be dying. He wasn't sure at this point. He could just as easily have been drifting into unconsciousness, but he had never felt so close to his own limit before. It felt as though his body was just giving out. Why shouldn't it? He had likely received three concussions on top of each other by now. He was battered and bloodied and his mask was gone and not even Iron Man could stop Thanos now. 

So this was his last moment on Earth. Well, not Earth, Peter corrected himself habitually. But in this life. 

The reeling dizziness began to blur his vision, and he just wanted it to be _over_ already. He closed his eyes, long past thinking straight, and began to remember. 

He remembered his parents and Uncle Ben, neither of whom he had seen in years. He remembered his angelic Aunt May, the woman who had raised him even when she was left alone to her own devices (which were nothing of note...the poor woman was a terrible cook). If Peter had had the strength to smile fondly, he would have. He remembered Ned, his best friend who was practically his brother, one of the only people in the world Peter would ever feel certain loved him for more than the fact that he was a superhero. Finally, he remembered...

Through his delirium, Peter had to question his own subconscious. Where had _her_ face come from? He could have thought of _anybody_... Liz Allan; that girl he sat next to in second grade--Gwen--he was pretty certain; but her?

Everything about her was such a calming, varying shade of brown; her skin, her eyes, her hair, her jacket. He could not have been picturing any one specific memory, because she was outlined by a ray of golden light that he would have remembered seeing her in before today. Michelle.

Her friends called her MJ, he corrected himself.

Peter felt a longing then for an embrace he had only been given a taste of once in his whole life. An aching in his heart that could not be satisfied began. That last bit of strength he had been trying to find suddenly found him, and he reached out for someone who was not in front of him. He silently willed Michelle, wherever she was, to feel him reaching out for her. In his last moments, he rediscovered the comfort she had given him what felt like ages ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Spider-Man is my favorite superhero, Tom Holland's portrayal is my favorite in all Spidey media, and Peter/Michelle is my OTP. Thus, I have no idea why I would write a fic like this. I also like drama, I guess? Plus I can't freaking wait for Infinity War.


End file.
